Wonder
by Shayten
Summary: A midnight stroll reveals more about Dante than Nero ever knew. [DanteNero]


**Pairing(s):** DanteNero

**Plot? **A midnight stroll reveals more about Dante than Nero ever knew.

**Note! **Some OoC may occur; it's my first try at DMC. Enjoy!

* * *

**Wonder**

_Devil May Cry_

* * *

That woman had watched Dante for a while. Every single moment, her big blue eyes were locked on to him, watching him walk, observing him talk, hoping that he would chance a glance around the room to lock on to her eyes with his, having the urge to flutter her fake eyelashes at him, caked in mascara. The female hadn't made a motion to move to approach the oblivious half-demon yet, but it was simply a matter of time. Her body tensed every few moments, as though she wanted to get up but then she became unsure, and stopped, remaining seated. Back and forth her decisions wavered … and it was nothing but irksome.

Like really, how hard was it to make a decision? … Well, she did have platinum blonde hair. In the human world, it was considered a trait of someone with less than average intelligence. Stupidity was something that wasn't adamant in her expression, but something really … strange was present. The blonde was staring after Dante like he was something delicious to snack on. What was with everyone looking at him like that?

Nero shook his head. Surely not? Dante was attractive, yeah, but not **that** attractive. … Or so he tried to convince himself. Thoughts whirred though his head; this woman wasn't the first one to stare after Dante in the way she was, a LOT of other women also stared. He had nothing on his back or head, he had checked earlier, and there was no way that they possibly knew of his heritage with a single glance, so what were they all staring at …?

"So, Nero, first time to a bar, eh? Try not to get lost in the crowd—I'll not be able to save you if you do!" Dante's voice was loud and cheerful, a hint of cheekiness laced within the merriment. He loved teasing the smaller of the two, and Nero knew it. However, it didn't stop the glare he shot at the half-demon.

"I can take care of myself. I'm not some damsel in distress." His tone was one less pleasant; he really wasn't a people-demon. Public places made him uncomfortable, and it didn't help that a handful of the men in the small, cramped 'bar' mimicked the gape the blonde had, who was **still** aiming it at Dante, at him. All sorts of uneasy sensations spiked along his spine he felt like prey. Watched like a hawk from afar, awaiting the perfect moment to strike. He didn't like it one bit. "Do we have to stay here for much longer, old man?" He hoped Dante didn't notice the nerves beginning to show in his tone.

"C'mon, enjoy yourself for once! This place is great so long as you're willing to chillax and have fun!"

"Are we safe here?" Nero asked, looking around him suspiciously.

Dante couldn't help the chuckle at the youngsters alerted state. He threw his arm casually over his shoulders and pulled him in a friendly, one-armed hug, to his dismay – Nero wasn't one for being touchy-feely (he should know from the many times that he tried to touch him without permission, to only nearly be missing an appendage!). "No worries, kid! No one shall dare touch you—promise! So, have a drink and relax! Go on, I bet you'll like the brandy—it's spicy, like you!"

Nero studied Dante's expression carefully. He knew that he'd not lead him astray, but he couldn't suppress the feeling of being watched. If only he had eyes in the back of his head like some demons … "Alright, I'll trust your judgement, but if I get attacked or anything of the sort, you're losing an arm."

"Sure, sure," he purred, waving his hand absent-mindedly whilst replying.

It was the same-old, same-old with the partial-demon. "Kill this" and "lose a ligament" that. He was fierce and cold-hearted, just the way the demonic race was depicted. Granted, he had many reasons to be such, but Dante had hoped he'd warm, if only a little. There was a time, a long time ago, when he showed warmth to him. That was the day they said goodbye after their adventures all those years ago. He was younger; Nero had been just a kid, scrawny and short. Maturity had done a lot for them both, but damn_,_ had it done wonders for him. Nero had gone from being a scrawny, bad-tempered brat with the physique to match (aka, absolutely **no** muscles or tone definition), to being a lithe, bad-tempered hunk. What he lacked before was now overly compensated; Dante queried him on how he even **moved **properly with such an impressive build, without being ambushed by horny-carnivores. Each and every time, he'd blush furiously and tell him to "shut up!"

Time had changed them both, certainly, but some things would always stay the same. … Like how he was currently staring intently at the perk ass perched tauntingly on the edge of his seat, a single finger outstretched before him, slowly closing in on his target – Nero. He was busy ordering his drink, ensuring the 'incompetent bartender' wouldn't get his beverage wrong. He was almost there – barely centimeters away! – when a sudden throat being cleared to his right broke his concentration. Furious with being interrupted, he whipped his head around to bark at the intruder, when the words caught in his throat at witnessing a gorgeous blonde, apparently appearing out of nowhere as the seat had been vacant before, being sat on the stool next to him. She had a lot of make-up on, with an extreme amount of mascara upon fake eyelashes, and he was certain that blonde was not her natural colour, but nonetheless, she was **hot**!

The blonde smiled at him, revealing a row of pearly white teeth, perfect and prim. "Hey there, lover boy."

Dante sent a sideways smirk at her – it was a killer of a smirk, always got them! "Hel-_lo_ babe! Something got your interest?"

Huge, baby-blue eyes batted dramatically at him, and she shifted in her seat, purposely pushing up her meager breasts up in his direction. Her clothing was tight and skimpy, leaving very little to the imagination. This was his type of woman – simple, easy to forget. Yet … lately, he found himself a little less inclined to approach those type of women. He questioned his motives for not wanting to interact with them, why exactly his 'inner demon' didn't want a piece of that ass, and he always came back to the same conclusion; a little partial-demon with the temper of a dragon._ 'Odd how things worked,' _Dante mused internally,_ 'very odd indeed. I never would've figured he would break me from a long-term habit. Then again, I never thought we'd be sat at a bar ever, either. Very odd indeed.'_

He was aware of the fact that the kid had indeed ensnared his senses and – he frowned at the thought – even held a prominent place in his heart. It was just a shame. He smiled at himself inside, uncharacteristically a little solemn. _'It honestly blows that he'll never want me in that way, let alone think of me.'_

And so, he decided he should just settle for second best. Plus it was always humorous to watch Nero get worked up over how "gross" it was when women hit on him. He'd purposely go along with it until the kid could stomach it no more, and then burst out with laughter at his expressions of disgust and nausea. He often smote him upside the head afterwards when he explained at how he did it at his expense, but boy-oh-boy, was it worth it!

"Oh yeah, something has my interest," she replied, her eyes never leaving his icy orbs. "You have pretty eyes—so blue."

"And you have pretty everything, but you don't need me to tell you that." His smirk broadened – Nero had just caught on. It was show time! Let the standing ovation be ready! "I mean, damn girl, you're smokin'!"

"How kind of you!" Her giggle was incredibly sweet and innocent like. He knew just from looking at her that it was false – she was **far** from innocent. "What brings someone such as your handsome self in here?" She moved blatantly closer to him, pushing her chest out further, wanting to reel in her bite. "Anything that I could help with …?" Closer again. She was touching his arm now too, soft strokes running up and down his long-sleeved shirt. His jacket was on the back of his chair. "I'm Tamri, by the way. What's _your_ name?"

Her tone was indescribably seductive. Tamri obviously wanted him, although, he felt no adamant want to have her. How weird.

"Tamri? Sweet and delicious, just like you." He threw in a cheeky wink for extra effect. "Name's Dante, but you can call me anything you want."

Tamri's eyes lit up; she thought her moves were working on the stud sitting next to her! "Like, oh my god, Dante is my _favourite_ name!"

"Fancy that! Tamri's mine too!" His ploy was working. He could **feel** the outrage pooling from the youngster on his left. Only a few more words and the familiar puking noises should begin … wait, what?

Dante pulled his eyes away from Tamri to look in front of him, only to be shocked at locking on to a pair of hauntingly familiar blue hues extremely close to his, closer than they've ever been in a non-dire situation. His mind momentarily stopped at the bewilderment – **Nero**_, _the brat who despised him the most, was sat on **his** lap! The younger of the two housed a very alien expression to his natural one; he was blushing. Dante found himself unable to swerve away from his gaze, which held no malice or anger, instead had been replaced with something else, something new. Almost … as though he was nervous, afraid? He was Nero, impossibly jaded and fearless! Not logical.

But still …

"Kid—?"

"B-buy me a drink?"

If he hadn't had enhanced hearing, he'd have missed the question completely. Nero spoke so quietly that even those with great hearing would've misheard, or not heard at all. He tilted his head out of curious confusion, looking at the smaller of the two, even as he struggled to keep up eye contact with him. "I'm sorry—what?"

"Buy me a drink? Please, Dante."

He nearly fell off his stool right then and there. Nero said **please**! To **him**! He must be dreaming.

"Nero, I don't—"

"P-please …?" he – if even possible – did something extraordinarily out of his character; he leaned in and nuzzled his cheek against the half-demons chest. He felt an intense amount of heat arising from his face alone, but he was too stunned to really care about that.

"Oh, _oh_! Excuse me, I didn't realise!" Tamri exclaimed, jolting backwards as though dealt an electric shock, pulling her (grimy!) hands away from Dante and began backing away rapidly. "I feel so stupid now, I'm sorry! I have to go!"

Dante broke from his Nero-induced stupor and his eyes followed the retreating blonde, but not necessarily caring about her departure. Right then, he had bigger questions to answer; like what the **hell** was going on with Nero? He nuzzled him – for the love of the Gods, was he drunk? A nifty little thought reminded him that he told him once that it would be impossible to get him smashed, genetics or something to his dismay, so it crossed that off the list. Was he getting back at him, at his own little game? Did he want to play?

"What's the big idea? Me and her were gonna have fun later—a _lot_ of fun by the looks of her!"

Nero's expression fell a little, his blush deepening. He still wouldn't look back up at him either, something else very abnormal. "I-I … I don't know what overcame me." He fiddled with his hands in his lap like a fidgety child. "I'll—uh, I'll just— … I don't know."

Nero was conflicted, that much was obvious. Dante just didn't understand why. Had he made him … jealous? Was that why he had done what he did? To shove away the competition? _'Preposterous,' _he scoffed to himself_, 'like that would ever be the case.'_

"You know I was only kidding, right?" he asked, receiving no instant response. He nudged the smaller form a little with his arm, gaining his attention, if only a little. "Nero, really, I was. I just love to see the expression you pull!"

He offered his best smile, and Nero shied away. Yes, **shied**. He was acting really strange. "O-of course I knew! I—I just … keh!" His hands flew to his face and he shook his head, glossy ivory hair flowing freely with each movement. "I'm—I'm sorry, I'll just … go."

But he made no effort to move. Dante was silent, pondering. He was uncertain, but he seemed a little vulnerable. He wouldn't abuse that. "Hey …"

Nero peeked at him through a hole in his fingers. He could still see the flush on the tanned skin.

"How about that drink?"

His hands fell away from his face and he gave a single nod and slid back into his own seat. They said nothing for the next few hours. Words weren't necessary. They were alone with their thoughts as puzzled thoughts were present in both of their minds.

**. . . **

It was late. Dante and Nero had been at the bar for a few hours, silent and steady. But for the youngster, the silence was slowly eating away at his sanity. Commonly Dante was a motor-mouth, unable to restrain himself from speaking for seconds at a time. He had hated the noise in the beginning, constantly snapping at him to shut up with threats to remove his tongue, but overtime, the obnoxious sounds he produced had become a part of his daily life. It was bizarre for him to be so deep in thought, so intelligent looking! It was annoying!

"Speak, damn it!"

The sudden outburst made Dante jump. There was very few people left in the bar; a group of several men in one corner, a few scattered couples staring deep in to each other's eyes and sparsely scattered singletons along the bar front and back. So, for such a sudden noise after so much serenity was acceptable to jump at. He tilted his head slightly, blue eyes glancing over at the angry-looking Nero.

"Huh?"

"Is that the best you've got? How pathetic."

Dante blinked. Just what had crawled up Nero's ass so suddenly? He voiced his very thoughts. "What bit you on the ass?"

"You did, cretin! You sit there, just sit there! That's all you do! Go away from me!"

And with that, the partial-demon hopped off of his bar stool and stormed to the door. Pulling it open with a great force, it slammed against the wall before closing, to which he had already exited through. The group of men in the corner left suddenly also, leaving very few people. Dante merely stared, blinking a few times before returning to his normal posture, leaning against the bar.

"Just what the in the world was that about?"

_Meanwhile _–

"Why, why're you on my mind?" Nero grumbled to no one in particular. He had stormed out of the bar on an impulse. It was strange to him; he'd never had the desire to run away from someone before. Normally, they run from him. Today was a very confusing day. First of all, he'd wanted to murder every woman who looked at Dante in the way that made him seem like a satisfactory meal. Second, he felt the urge to be near him all day. Third, he'd purposely crawled on him to scare away the pesky succubus that tried leeching on to his arm. "What's wrong with me? Am I high?"

Only the Gods knew. He knew not of what emotions burned deeply in his veins. He couldn't handle them. That's why he ran.

"Why am I running from _him_, of all things? Why am I such a pussy suddenly?!"

Anything that occurred because of Dante, he instantly diagnosed as a dysfunction in his engineering. He was built to destroy; that's it. So how had Dante induced all these sensations without meaning to? Why did he affect him so greatly? How did he let him?

Nero shook his head and bangs from his eyes. Nothing made much sense when it came to Dante lately. No sense at all. At moments, he wanted him close, the next; he wanted to bite his head off. If he were to say goodbye for some reason … well, he'd not know what to do. It was almost like … like …

"Ah, fuck, I like the old man?"

He wandered aimlessly for a while, not caring at where his feet led him. The conclusion his mind drew up brought everything of his inner-conflicts to light – Dante gave his life purpose. Of course, taking care of Kyrie was a full-time job, but that was something he grew up doing, it came naturally. This? This came eventually. It came from him, from Dante. Just what it all meant though still eluded him. What purpose did he give? A purpose of fighting off any thing unworthy away from him for all eternity?

"It's not like that's such an bad ending," he mumbled, kicking a pebble along the floor. He had instinctively moved towards the darker side of the road. Darkness shielded him and his appearance from the sight of all curious eyes. Demons always lurked, searching for ones of his description. Staying hidden was a skill. "I hate this—I feel like I wanna gauge out his eyes, punch the stupid look of his face, then heal him to prevent the pain. What a paradox …"

A sudden hand to his shoulder made him jump. He growled, suspecting Dante to shine one of his oddly appealing grins his way, but his temper died down upon not seeing him. In Dante's theoretical place stood several large males, each gazing down at him … with that same look he despised being sent at Dante. Crystalline blue eyes narrowed as he analysed each male in front of him. They were each double his size – at the very least – and they all looked serious. Serious with extra creepy smirks. It took a lot to unnerve him, but they were doing a bang-up job.

_'Shit, just who're these creeps?' _"The hell're you?"

The one in front – he was burly and tall, preposterous muscles protruding through his t-shirt – stepped forwards boldly, automatically making him take a step back. He smelt strongly of alcohol and smoke, expensive cigars to be precise. His expression was very unfriendly and his eyes small, glistening with mischief. Nero recalled that same glint within the familiar icy-blue hues, but it never felt like this when he looked at him – Dante never made him feel scared.

In fact, he made him feel safe. … Not that he'd ever admit that out loud.

"I was about to ask you the same thing, punk."

His voice made Nero quiver – not in a good way. It was raspy and rough, like sandpaper. Dante's was smooth, baritone. It was comforting as much as it was vexing. An ironic comfort. But no, this man's voice wasn't the least bit pleasant.

"I suggest you fuck off." There was a deadly point to his words, but, seemingly, the threat was ignored as the male advanced again; his response was an instant step-back. "I'm warning you!"

"And what, pray tell, could a little thing like you do?" The mocking sneer was potent, and he sniffed in disdain. These were the type of men Dante had told him about – abusive and domineering. They saw something they wanted and went for it, no matter the consequence or situation. He would not be that 'something'! "Well, cutie? We're waitin'!"

"Don't patronise me, prick!" he snapped, standing his ground this time when they stepped forward. He would prove he wouldn't be underestimated. "If you come closer, I'll deal you serious damage! This is your final warning!"

With that, he struck out quickly, aiming directly for the snide man's lower jaw. It was a punch aimed to daze to enable him to use the greater weight against him, but, the man was quick. So quick, he grabbed Nero's wrist and twisted it sharply, igniting a fiery sensation along the length of his lower arm, causing him to wince and his knees to buckle slightly, adjusting to relieve the pain a little.

"And this is yours, sweet-cheeks," the leader said cruelly, "if you scream, we'll make sure no one ever finds you."

Nero felt his insides freeze, as though on ice. They were advancing towards his, and his mind was screeching at him to move – to do something – but he was paralysed, unable to run or speak. He didn't know why, but he knew it was not good. He closed his eyes and the first thing that popped to his mind, he shouted.

"Dante!"

**. . . **

"Well, he's been gone a while—he's lost. Terrible sense of direction that one!"

Dante breathed in deeply, inhaling all sorts of scents and smells. The city was different to what he was used to. This one was alive and bright, even during the night. He was sure the electricity bill was sky-high, not that he cared. All he knew was that it made it look "pretty", and Nero seemed attracted to shiny, bright lights. He picked the destination, after all. He sniffed the air again, an explosion of scents sending his senses in disarray again, but, he obtained the unique one he was after – Nero's. Once locked on to and in clear view, he straightened himself up and smiled.

"Smell me the way! Ha-ha, I crack myself up. By now, he would've rolled his eyes or slapped me upside the head." He began walking. "Well, best find the kid. Someone could try to take advantage of such a naïve punk."

His mind wandered on to lovely images of Nero's assets. Oh, how he loved them – he was so perfect! It was unfair that someone so grumpy got a gift so great, and then won't share it with anyone! Not even a single glance at that tight ass!

How mean.

"Ah, kid, how lucky you are—you get to see yourself naked! I have to imagine it! It sucks. One day though—one day I'll feel that ass! It's my life-long goal! I'll achieve it one way or another—my head be damned, I'd die a happy man!"

He shouted his declaration to the world, but no one heard. Luckily, Nero wasn't there to hear either. He was sure he'd attempt to take his life or something similar. He had such a big temper for one so small.

"Just where could he have wandered to? Little legs surely can't have gotten far …"

He trailed off – a lot of noise was sounding from an alley off of the main path. It sounded like a struggle. Not one to deny a moment of heroism, Dante smoothed his wild hair, which had no effect whatsoever, and increased his pace, closing in quickly on the source of disturbance. The moment he turned the corner, the overwhelming scents of alcohol and tobacco mixed clogged all other smells. Resisting the urge to plug his nose before advancing, he saw the commotion occurring – it was the group that had been in the bar before, huddled in a semi-circle against the wall, hands grabbing in front of them at something pressed harshly against the wall by one in particular …

A sense of justice provoked him, pressing him to move. "Hey, punks! Leave the lady alone!"

His assumption proved right at them attempting to violate an innocent – the female part a total guess. The group paused in their ministrations, and each looked around for the source of the confident resonation. Several pairs of eyes locked on to his form, his posture and expression reading self-assurance. This was the type of guy they all hated, the one who tried to play the hero. So many times had they preformed this act to be caught by some wannabe hero, only for the mug to end up in hospital, an inch from death. It wouldn't be long before this rookie would join them.

"Run along, old-timer. This ain't none of your business."

"On the contrary, if you punk-asses are ganging up on an innocent, I have no choice but to step in and save the day!" He grinned at them, cockiness the origin of the quirk. "So, I suggest you let them go so we can dance; quickly now, I hate to be kept waiting."

Dante was dancing all right; dancing on their last nerves. This was nothing but a game for him – of course he'd save the poor soul they were ravaging and ensure their safety – but beating up on these morons? Nothing but a game.

"L-Let me go!"

Dante's smirk faded, his insides churning. That voice … it couldn't be …?

"I swear, I'll kill you all!"

"Nero?"

"_Dante_!"

Piercing cobalt-blue eyes shot his way and in that moment he knew. That was all he needed to know – this was no longer a game.

"Let the kid go."

"Or what, hero? You'll cry? Ha-ha-ha!" A chorus of laughter filled the alleyway, echoing to fade. Little did they know that each pathetic syllable only pushed his inner demon to shine. After all, he wasn't an angel …

"I'll won't tell you again—_let him go_."

The venom in his tone made silence follow, and all of a sudden, the "wannabe hero" had turned into a plausible threat. All eyes were on his, Nero's had never left. The undiluted fear in his eyes had been enough to spark Dante's demonic desires to kill to life – fear shouldn't be in his eyes. This scum had put it there, and now, it was time to erase the means of fear.

"Nero, watch yourself—this'll be messy."

The ominously sapphire glow vanished and he knew Nero heeded his request. He sprung in to action without warning, bowling straight in to the crowd like a bunch of pins, sending them scattering with a single strike. The main one was the one he had his eyes truly set on, the rest were just pawns. A few swift kicks and punches dealt with the lackeys, leaving them piled on the floor, lucky to be alive. The main man had fled the moment Dante moved, fear then being present in his bug-like eyes. He was able to track him with ease – his scent was the most prominent (not mentioning the fact he'd honed in on that particular one), and he found him in less than a minute of tracking.

"Found you, asshat."

The man fell on his backside with a loud thump, backing away weakly on his butt in an attempt to get away from the angered Dante, whom had seemingly appeared from thin air. He was a snivelling mess of a man that seemed to only act big to smaller, "weaker" entities. When faced with a real challenge, such as Dante, he was a coward – the worst type of man.

"You think it's funny to pick on kids, huh? Well, I'll tell you what—it's not cool." Dante grinned at him, but it wasn't comforting. "Game over."

A squeal of fright was the last noise in that alley.

**. . .**

Dante walked back along the alley, wiping his brow of dust and dirt. That man … he was a vile human being and he was lucky to be left alive. He'd dumped his unconscious body in a dumpster – where he belonged – where he would be found come morning.

_'Damn dirtbag is lucky I don't kill humans. If he hurt the kid … that's another story. I'll kick his sorry ass from here to the moon.'_

He shook his head, sighing inwardly at the way the day had played out. Life wasn't boring with Nero around, that was for sure. Every day proved for another adventure, no matter how insignificant, he would be able to turn it to something huge.

Life would be boring without the kid.

Dante was back in the alley with Nero, and he smiled at him, only to falter at seeing him crouched down, back against the wall, his head hidden from view behind his knees. He'd wrapped his arms around his knees and brought them to his chest as though to shield himself from the world. He looked so … **feeble**.

"Hey, kid, you okay?"

A rustle indicated movement, and slowly, but surely, he lifted his head and locked apprehensive hues to his. His expression was heart-breaking. Dante stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do next. The last thing he wanted to do was startle him after being attacked. He was volatile at best sometimes.

"Nero, you're safe."

A series of quick movements was all that warned him that he'd moved, rapidly at that. One moment he was on the floor, the next, he had thrown his arms around Dante in an embrace of desperation to get some sort of safety between him and the world. He remained still for the moment, before, hesitantly, returning the hug tentatively. He buried his head in to his coat, concealing his face and emotions written all over it. He didn't want Dante seeing him defeated or vulnerable. He didn't want him thinking less of him.

"Dante …"

"Hey, no worries, no one else will hurt you." He looked up at him, weary but with subtle relief. "Besides," he flashed one of his memorable grins, "I have to protect the naïve and innocent! Can't let just anyone try to touch you—that's reserved solely for me!" He laughed at the dead-panned stare he received. "There's my Nero."

He looked away again, his cheeks a little pink. "Dante …"

"Uh, oh, I didn't mean it like—"

"Dante," he repeated with a little more force, interrupting, "those bastards ripped my jacket and shirt. If I walk around bare, we're sure to be attacked."

"Oh?" Then it clicked. "Oh! Here—" Skilfully, he removed his coat without needing Nero to move with him. He then put it around his shoulders. "—this should work fine." He shot him a charming smile, while cursing to himself loudly in his head. _'This is just my luck! The one time his shirt rips and I'm too nice to peek.'_

He pulled it tighter around himself. It was warm and smelled like Dante. He couldn't comprehend why, but he … liked it.

"No one else should see anything but me!"

And there went his admiration. Glowering with less than half the annoyance of before, Nero shook his head at him but stayed close. Dante stretched out a little and began walking along the alley back to the brightly lit path, Nero closely trailing him. He looked at the kid sideways with a goofy smile.

"C'mon kid I booked us in at a hotel whilst you were on your stroll."

**. . . **

The journey to the hotel Dante picked out for them was very boring, thank goodness. They'd each had enough excitement for one night. They were mere minutes away from reaching the doorway to a good night's rest, when Dante decided to break the comfortable silence that had fallen between them. "So, Nero, earlier—what was all that about?"

He didn't answer straight off. He didn't even look at him, instead choosing to keep his eyes forwards. "I just didn't want her filthy hands touching you. I'm sick of people like that hovering over you like some all you can eat buffet. It's not something you deserve."

He flashed a grin, to which Nero narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "So, it wasn't from jealously?"

"You wish, old man," the partial-demon sniffed, dismissing the claim as nothing but an assumption, though the truth was clear. "As I said before, it was just from the fact that I won't allow a companion of mine to be defiled by such a grotesque form of—of that."

"You don't even know what 'that' is called, do you?" Dante's grin broadened at Nero's mild discomfort. "It's called 'seduction'. As in, seeing someone you want and using everything the Gods gave us to get it! You should try it out sometime, y'know? Practice makes perfect after all!"

"And just who would you suggest I practice with?"

"Me, of course!"

"I figured as much." Light blue eyes rolled around in their sockets at the sheer amount of impudence radiating from the half-demon. Dante hadn't changed in the many years he had known him, and he imagined, the elder of them never would. It was erratically soothing to know that. "I don't have time to waste with shit like that."

"Aww, c'mon kid! You know you love me really!" he chirped up, throwing an arm over the shorter of the two. For once, he didn't shrug him off. "What would live be without me, huh? Boring, that's what!"

"You have one thing right," Nero began, glancing up at him with slight humour, "life would be much more peaceful without you."

"He-he, you're damn right!" He gave a little space between them again, noticing that he tended to not drift more than a few feet away at a time. "About earlier though—"

"Will I ever hear the end of this?"

"—don't sweat your foxy little ass off, m'kay? Women like that ain't my type."

Nero halted all sense of movement to look straight at him. Dante stopped also, slightly inquisitive. "Not your 'type'? I figured she'd be perfect for you? Simple and easy to forget?"

Dante took a moment to answer. With a shake of ivory hair, he ruffled the kid's hair, eliciting a growl of annoyance. "Aww, is that what you think of me? I'm heart-broken!" He chuckled gleefully at the expression offered in response. "Okay, you got me—yeah, she _was_ perfect—"

"I knew it—"

"—lemme finish, Mr. Impatient," he complained cheerfully, earning a frown, "as I was saying; she would've been perfect for me, once upon a time, but as I said once before—time changes things. My type is a lot more … sophisticated."

A light eyebrow arched. "I never knew you knew of that words meaning."

"I'm full of surprises! You should know _that_ by now!"

"Of course I know that!" Nero snarled. "I just wasn't aware that you changed 'types' like you do your socks! … Then again, that isn't often so that was a bad comparison."

Dante mock-gasped. "Why, Nero—were you trying to make a joke?"

"I'll show you joke in a moment," came the cool reply. "Enough of this, it's getting cold. Lead on."

"You were the one that stopped," he mused, grinning happily at the grimace he got. "Alright, alright, c'mon Nero. Put some pep in that step!"

And so they continued on-wards. It was a slow walk – Nero was walking slowly. Dante would've been there in a matter of moments if alone, but he abided by the partial-demons desire to travel at a snail's pace. It was nice to just kick back and relax at times. It was rare in his world that time and circumstances enabled any form of relaxation; especially one he was very used to. He swore he'd go blue and die if not receiving any attention of that type for much longer. His thoughts meandered and crossed images of the kid and his glorious physique. _'If only just once—just once!—I'd be set for an entire year. Just one touch! Just one touch …'_

Dante's eyes slowly turned towards Nero, narrowed and mistrustful looking, almost to the point of squinting. The male in question was looking ahead to ensure he tripped over no stray item, too preoccupied to notice his hand slowly outstretching, finger extending, homing in on his rear end. Closer and closer he crept, inch by precious inch – so close that a breath could only separate them …!

"Dante—"

"I didn't do it, no one saw me do it—you can't prove anything!" This was yelped in a shrill tone and he jumped back away from the youngster as though shocked by lightning. Bewildered, owl-wide icy-blue eyes stared at him, dumbfounded. Dante laughed sheepishly suddenly and rubbed the back of his head with a hand. "I mean, yes Nero?"

Nero blinked a few times, tilting his head like a curious child. Scrapping the idea to question the half-demons motives to jerk back so abruptly and kept on his original track. He could feel his face begin to heat up around his cheeks, undeniably getting a faint pink tint to them (thank goodness it was dark!) but the query just wouldn't leave his mind, and unanswered questions drove him insane.

"Dante—what _is_ your 'type'?"

"My—my type?" he echoed, not following.

"You know, your '_type'_." If his cheeks were to redden further, he'd light up the street like a beacon.

"Oh, as in woman?" A quick nod confirmed his question. "Well, I would lie and say it's too complicated to explain, but since when is anything I like complicated, right?"

"… Right. So?"

"Eager, aren't we? Love it." A sly wink impacted Nero more than Dante would ever know. "Well, my 'type' … my type—it is simple; she'd have to be like, extremely well proportioned—"

"Well proportioned?" he questioned, curiosity gaining the better of him.

"_Huuuge_ tits and a sweet ass to match!"

"Oh. Figures. You're a pervy old man, huh?"

"Hey now, you asked! Besides, that's only one side of the coin—"

Nero eyed the elder of them with reproach. "One side?"

Dante grinned broadly. "You never inquired as to my taste in men!"

Nero wasn't expecting that. He nearly tripped over a stray stone in proof. "M-men?!"

"Duh. I'm far too great to confine myself to one gender. So, kid, wanna know?"

The partial-demon swiped at his nose with a hand, uncaring (false!), and shrugged indifferently. "Sure, can't hurt. Shoot."

"Well, first off, he'd have to be drop-dead gorgeous. Secondly, he筑d have to have one wicked sense of humour—the type where it's so wrong and bad to laugh, but he will anyway, like me! Also, he'd have to be pretty damn gorgeous to withstand all _this_!" He motioned to his entire form with a cheeky smirk. "If he can't handle this, then he's hopeless!"

"What's to handle?" Nero piped in, sarcasm blatantly tied in with his tone. "And you said gorgeous twice, egomaniac."

"Ha-ha, you don't know what you;re talking about! He'd have to be feisty; who wants someone so docile? Bor-_ring_!"

Nero rolled his eyes. "Right, so I understand the personality—you basically want someone who will withstand your idiocy and laugh at it. What about looks? You say someone gorgeous—explain your definition, oh great leader!"

"Beauty comes in all forms, Nero," Dante murmured, raising an eyebrow expectantly. "I mean, look at me for an example—drop dead gorgeous!"

"That's a weird expression."

"That's life! Anyway, continuing with the subject of looks … they'd have to be smokin' hot, shorter than me—obviously, otherwise how can I whisk him off his feet?—have glossy, silky smooth hair—I prefer lighter hair in colour—and have to have the most amazing icy blue eyes that match his heart perfectly."

Nero tilted his head to the left, pondering deeply on the description. Pinch him if he were wrong, but, it seemed like Dante had described …

"Basically someone like you!" Dante finished, beaming at him with a radiantly joyful persona. "Except, y'know, the whole 'Dante must die!' thing you have with me. That I'd appreciate _not_ having. I like living too much—people would be lost without this handsome face!"

"Yeah, lost …" Nero spoke quietly. Dante's 'type' – he had defined all that he was **perfectly**. Physique and personality, though he was still unsure about the 'drop dead gorgeous' thing. Commonly telling someone a sentence with the words "drop dead" in them wasn't a positive.

Dante noted the partial-demon was lost himself – in thought that was. Feeling a little awkward (Nero didn't usually think so much around him – he acted first and asked questions later), the half-demon bumped him on the head with his fist lightly, as though rapping at a door for entry. "Is anyone in there? Dante to Nero—Dante to Nero—come in Nero!"

"Stop that," he muttered, swatting the hand away, unwilling to stray from his thought induced stupor. "Let's go."

"Yes sir! Lead the way!" He saluted him with a playful simper, but it went unnoticed. This was a little strange; he wasn't used to being so – so ignored. "Oh wait, I need to lead the way. Follow me, kid, and try to keep up! I won't come looking for your ass until morning if you get lost!"

Dante was ignored again, but decided against acting out on it this time. He figured he was tired and un-talkative. Therefore, instead of procrastinating further, he ploughed forwards (thinking of **other **things he'd like to plough), checking back every so often to check that the kid was still on his trail.

They reached the hotel without any interruptions. It was a relief, and Dante stretched out a little whilst they awaited the receptionist to get her act together and sort out their accommodation. He settled for two rooms next to each other as opposed to one with two (or a single bed in it – he could dream!) beds in. Nero adored privacy and Dante was a gentleman deep down – he'd only try to peek three times tonight! Occasionally it would be a lot more, but they had both had a long night. He wanted to sleep as much as he presumed Nero did.

"Thanks!" Dante said to the receptionist, who turned pink at the handsome half-demon smiling at her. "C'mon, it's this way." They made their way through and up. Eventually the rooms 34A and 34B crept upon them. He stopped and held out a room key (A) to Nero, who blinked at it dumbly. Rolling his eyes for him to see, he took the glowing blue hand and turned it upwards, dropping the key card in his palm. "It's your room card, Nero. You need it to get in. I got us two separate rooms, so, y'know, you can do all that crap you do so before bed—whatever. I'll be right next door," he added, turning on the charm for the last time that evening, "if you need me for anything—such as a full body massage to ease away the stress of the day—lemme know, 'kay?"

Nero looked at him through hazy blue hues, a little less bright than their normal state. "Huh? … Oh, right. You're next door—I'm alone in here. I'm going to bed, night."

Dante raised an eyebrow as the Nero retreated. He watched his ass sway behind him as he wrestled to keep his coat up whilst opening the door (damn his coat for being too long – it prevented him from seeing Nero's ass clearly!).

"G'night Nero."

"Uh, yeah, night," he said quickly, shutting the door without so much as a backwards glance. Dante shook his head, sighing mutely and proceeded to unlock his door with his card. Just before he was about to enter, the door next to his opened again and a bashful gaze peered through the smallest of gaps. "Dante?"

"Mmm? S'up?"

Nero looked down, up – anywhere, seemingly, to avoid eye contact. Then he, mentally slapping himself, pulled his act together and used his remaining composure to look Dante dead-on. "Thank you—for saving my life."

"Eh?" To say he was perplexed would be an understatement. Saved the kid's life? "I wouldn't go that far, but yeah, I did save your pretty little ass, huh? You can buy me breakfast in the morning to make up for it!"

Nero's expression softened, eyes lowering a little, a small smile tugging up his lips. "Deal. See ya in the morning, old man."

Click. His door shut for the final time. Dante was a little flabbergasted – Nero had **smiled **because of **him**. Just what was going on in his head? "Kids," he grumbled, pushing his way into his room, glancing longingly at the king-sized bed in there, calling him, just him, "they're beyond confusing."

He shut the door securely behind himself and rapidly undressed – careful to lay down his arms and weaponry on the floor nicely – his clothing flying in every direction haphazardly. If there was one thing he truly loved, it was sleeping in nothing but his birthday suit. Many people were far too prudish to even think of doing such a thing – Dante thought they were moronic for **not **doing so. It was beyond compare to lounge across a huge, ridiculously comfy bed with everything hanging free!

"This is the life," he mumbled, attacking a pillow with an array of nuzzles and snuggles to get it just the way he liked it. "No cares in the world—and the cutest kid next door. Oh yeah, this is the _liiife_ …"

**. . .**

It was still dark when Dante woke. Blinking lazily to rid himself a little of his slumber-filled haze, he stretched, groaning happily at the little pops of his ligaments waking. Scratching at his head, he slid along the bed until reaching the edge and sat with his legs over the side for a moment. He rose slowly, yawning loudly and made his way to the bathroom attached to his bedroom in all his naked glory. He did his business without rushing, and headed back to bed as soon as he was done. He paused along the way, though – something seemed different about the pitch-black room. He wasn't sure on what, but his senses told him so, and they were usually right, ninety percent of the time anyway.

Shaking his head after standing still for a few minutes, he dispelled the irritating poking sensation that something was amiss. He blamed his sleepy state. So, he walked back over to his bed, careful of his inventory sprawled across the floor, and was about to jump on the bed – when a light breathing stopped him dead.

His instincts had been correct – someone was in the room! And on his bed, the punk!

"Alright," he whispered, "you wanna play, I'm game!"

Silently, he leaned down and grabbed Rebellion. Lifting it with one hand in the direction he knew the sound resonated, he used his other hand to search along the wall for the light switch. Finding it, he kept his palm over it, and began counting down …

"Three … two … one … _hyah_! _Gottcha_!"

Light blazed to life and his shout startled the intruder awake. He was about to swing his sword down to disarm the unfamiliar – literally – but stopped merely an inch before metal connected with flesh and an incredulous expression etched itself on his features. The intruder was breathing rapidly, eyes wide with shock and hands upon the edge of the blade, an obvious attempt to repel the weapon away.

"Nero?"

Wide sky-blue eyes looked up at him. "I—I'm—you tried to kill me!"

Dante relaxed his tense form, rubbing the back of his neck while lowering his sword. "My bad! You shouldn't sneak up on someone when they're sleeping—unless you intend to sleep _with_ them! Why're you in here anyway?"

"I … I got scared, of being—" he began, halting immediately upon seeing that Dante was completely nude. "My eyes!" His hands shot up to his eyes and covered them instantly, his face getting a rather familiar tint of rosy pink to the cheeks. "Put some clothes on! Have some modesty!"

"Modesty? Who needs modesty with a physique like this?!" Dante barked, standing his sword up against the wall and he flexed out his body with noises to match. "Hyuh! Yeah, baby, yeah!"

"Dante!"

"Ha-ha, alright, alright, I'll get back under the covers." He did just that. Only when Nero felt it was safe did he remove his hands and left them in his lap. "So, seriously kid, why're you in here? Your bed not comfy? We could swap—"

"It's not that …"

"Then what? Could you simply not stand to be away from me?" His eyes lit up. "Or are you here to take me up on my offer?"

"'Offer'?"

"… That would be a no then. So, what?"

Nero, pained and ashamed, looked down. "I'm afraid."

"Scared? Of what?"

"Those bastards from the alley—they paralysed me in fear. I've never felt so _weak_ …"

"Nero …" He shifted the covers and Nero was about to move his hands. Dante laughed, "Relax, I have underwear on, just for you!" He sighed in relief and looked back again. "C'mere, little demon."

Nero moved along the bed to the top end, half-sitting, unsure of what to do. Dante opened his arms to him, raising an eyebrow. When Nero failed to move, staring at him with a bewildered expression, Dante rolled his icy hues and pulled the kid into an embrace. At first, Nero resisted, spluttering with embarrassment and he struggled against the cuddle, but the elder half-demon kept his grip firm. Eventually, Nero stopped squirming and accepted his fate, warming a little to the embrace. … It felt … nice. He cared not for what he felt at that moment – the confusion, the pleasantries, the stubbornness – he only wanted to feel the safety that being that close to Dante supplied. It was an endless supply too, something he'd never known before.

They sat like that for a while, Dante happily accepting whatever amount of time (it was the closest he'd ever been willingly let to Nero – and his god-like features! Never let an opportunity like that pass you by!), Nero content to just be next to him. He was warm and happy, like sunshine. The kid needed a little sunshine in his life.

"Can I stay in here with you?" Nero eventually inquired, hating himself for the vulnerability portrayed. He swallowed his pride and locked eyes with his elder. Nero wasn't some damsel in distress; he was a strong, capable warrior. … But even those need some support sometimes. "I don't want to go back in there … alone."

"No problem, Nero. You're welcome to stay here—I got'cha back! … And maybe your front too? I can protect that _much_ better?"

"Pervy old man!"

A swift swipe to the side of his head was the answer. He could only laugh whilst rubbing his head, "Okay, okay! Just try to get some sleep—you still owe me breakfast!"

Nero nodded and got beneath the duvet with him. He laid down with his back facing the half-demon. Dante momentarily wondered whether cuddling to him would feel like a teddy bear, but dismissed the thought again at the more appealing thought of keeping his arms. Instead, he sunk down too, his back facing the kid.

Dante was asleep in a matter of minutes, where he struggled with a decision on whether to try to poke Nero's ass when he was so freely available, but opted out at the single fact of the long night earlier. Nero, however, remained awake a little longer, unable to fall into slumber quickly. He tossed and turned before he found himself facing a sleeping Dante, his face peaceful, mind away in the land of dreams. He shuffled a little closer to him, closing what little space remained between them. Nero moved closer still, until nothing more than mere centimeters separated them. Comfortable at last, he settled down, but not without an experimental nuzzle against the elders chest again.

Nero decided that he liked doing that. It made his insides tingle – though he was unsure on whether that meant he was well or not.

Dismissing the thoughts, he locked them away until he woke in the morning. Then and there he wanted sleep; everything else could wait until morning.

In the end, the space between them had vanished completely – Nero held on to Dante in his sleep, and Dante did so in return. By the time morning came around, Nero had his back pressed directly against Dante's chest, contentedly cuddled within his arms, sleeping peacefully.

It would only be a shock in the next hour or so, to whoever woke first.

* * *

~_** End.**_


End file.
